


Unexpected Gifts

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Conversations, Gen, Spoilers For Episode 76 Of Campaign 2, The Wildmother Likes To Give Gifts, minor blood, working out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 18:17:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: "How many—sit-ups do I have left?”Beau grins in a manner that Fjord can only describe as sadistic. “Think you can give me ten more?”Fjord groans but manages to do what Beau asks, even if his last sit-up ends with him flopping back onto the mat and spending a moment breathing heavily.“You didn’t throw up this time,” Beau says as she offers Fjord a hand up. “Proud of you, man.”





	Unexpected Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I just wanted a scene of Fjord and Beau hanging out and being workout buddies and it lead to this. Enjoy!

Fjord rolls over in bed and winces, reaching up to rub at his shoulder, then wincing again when even that movement hurts. For a long moment he just stares at the ceiling before turning his head towards the window. It’s dark, of course. Even if the shutters weren’t closed it’d still be dark, even if it was morning, which Fjord doesn’t think it is.

They had returned to Xhorhas yesterday in the early afternoon and the rest of the day had alternated between making plans and relaxing. Caleb wanted to interrogate the Scourger the Dynasty had captured before they were executed. Beau and Jester wanted to go after Yasha and her new… _friends._ Caduceus had quietly mentioned that he needed to go visit the Stones to fulfill the next part of the Wildmother’s vision, and then had wandered off upstairs into the garden. When Fjord had gone up to check on him later, he had found the firbolg asleep under the tree, beneath the glowing jars of sunlight. Fjord had put a blanket over him before going to bed himself.

The muscles in Fjord’s arms twitch as he pushes himself up into a sitting position and he rubs at them absently as he tries to remember what he had been dreaming about before he had woken up. He stretches his aching arms over his head and yawns. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but he seems awake now. He could go downstairs, maybe check out the training room Beau had set up when they had first moved in. He had been interested before, but he hadn’t wanted to— well, he hadn’t wanted to embarrass himself in front of anyone. He had known that his stamina and strength had left a lot to be desired, or at least, that’s what he had always believed about himself. He remembers planting his feet in the snow, his arms straining as he held onto the whip wrapped around the giant remorhaz. Okay, the whip had been magical and that had probably helped a lot, but the fact remained that he had kept the damn thing from burrowing away while it had been holding Beau, and that had been before the Wildmother had blessed him.

Despite his aches, it doesn’t take long for Fjord to throw on a pair of loose fitting pants and a shirt and take care of a few things before heading down to the training room. One of the things was to start heating up the hot tub, which always took a while unless Caleb was the one providing the heat in the first place. Fjord would want a good long soak after his workout, he was sure of that. Beau probably would too, assuming she would be up at some point. He still doesn’t know what time it is, but the rest of the house is quiet as he makes his way to the training room and lights a few of the lamps to illuminate the space. It isn’t much, just some mats on the floor, a sparring dummy Jester and Beau had crafted one rainy afternoon, a few wooden structures Fjord doesn’t know the purpose of and a mounted bar for pull-ups, but it was sure to be leagues better than doing sit-ups on freezing, rocky ground and pull ups on trees that occasionally dropped snow on you.

Fjord’s in the middle of some push-ups (he’s lost count of how many), the ache in his arms more of a pleasant burn when he thinks he hears a sound from the doorway.

“Someone’s up early,” Beau says as she walks into the room, sitting on a bench and beginning to wrap her hands. “At least, I think it’s early. We really need to start going places that aren’t perpetually dark or underground or constantly snowing. I miss the sun. And being warm. I miss being warm too.”

“I—got the hot tub— going already,” Fjord pants between push-ups, then stops and moves into a sitting position, wiping sweat from his forehead. “_Are_ you cold?” He remembers Beau and Reani inside Caleb’s hut as the wizard had frantically drawn his teleportation circle while the white dragon had snapped fruitlessly at them. The two women had been frost-burned and shivering, and he could have sworn that Beau had been shivering still even after she had been healed.

“Just sick and tired of winter,” Beau says as she drops unceremoniously onto the mats. “Count for me?”

Fjord obediently does, silently counting as Beau starts cranking out sit-ups like it was nothing. “It’ll be spring soon, I think. Haven’t been keeping strict track of the days or anything, but it just, I don’t know, feels like it should be soon.”

“Got any plans?” Beau asks some time later when they switch places, Beau counting for Fjord now.

The sit-ups come easier to him than they had previously, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still hurt, doesn’t make them as effortless as Beau makes them seem. “For—what?” Fjord pants.

“Spring. I mean, you got the whole—“ Beau gestures vaguely. “The Wildmother is big on Spring, isn’t she?”

“I—think so?” Fjord says, feeling shame at his lack of knowledge creep through him like a vine. He really needs to sit down with Caduceus and ask him some more questions. “I’ll ask Caduceus—about it later. How many—sit-ups do I have left?”

Beau grins in a manner that Fjord can only describe as sadistic. “Think you can give me ten more?”

Fjord groans but manages to do what Beau asks, even if his last sit-up ends with him flopping back onto the mat and spending a moment breathing heavily.

“You didn’t throw up this time,” Beau says as she offers Fjord a hand up. “Proud of you, man.”

“I can’t tell you how delighted I am that we can skip that part of the workout,” Fjord says as he hauls himself to his feet, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead. “That being said, can we take a minute?”

Beau shrugs, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. “Sure,” she says. “But just a minute.”

“My thanks.” Fjord stretches his arms over his head, feeling the burn in his muscles as well as the shifting of some of his joints into a more pleasant alignment.

“You look better, you know.”

Fjord pauses in mid-stretch to blink at Beau in surprise. “What?”

“Not that I think you’re _attractive_ or anything.” Beau says quickly. “Guys don’t do it for me that way. Not that I think you’re ugly though, or that you were ugly before or—fuck.” Beau rubs at the bridge of her nose. “_Healthier_ is what I meant. Not just because you’ve put on a little muscle, you just—“

Fjord stops stretching and puts a reassuring hand on Beau’s shoulder before they both die of embarrassment. “Beau, it’s fine. I noticed it as well.” Fjord had never been one for mirrors, and they didn’t have a full length one in the house, but Jester had been more than happy to disguise herself as him last night when he had asked. He had been surprised at the changes, small but noticeable. How the green and yellow tones of his skin had looked vibrant again, like they had before the shipwreck, not like he was a plant in need of water. He was a little stockier too, as if he actually had been brought up somewhere where his growing body had always been given enough to eat. Jester had sworn she hadn’t exaggerated any part of her disguise and Fjord had believed her. The face he had seen in front of him had matched the reflection in her eyes.

“I _feel _better,” Fjord continues. “It’s funny, I had gotten so used to this kind of—“ He rubs at his chest. “This cold, achey sort of feeling all the time. And now it’s gone and I wonder how the hell I ever managed to tolerate it in the first place.”

The cold is still there, if he’s being honest, but it’s like a deep ocean current surrounded by much warmer waters. He knows it’s there, but as long as he doesn’t go searching for it he doesn’t really feel it.

“You can get used to a lot if it’s something you don’t think you can change, even if it’s something you hate,” Beau says with a nod. Fjord only has a second to wonder if she’s speaking from personal experience before she gives him a smirk and grabs her staff. “Break’s over. You have your sword on you? I was thinking we could do a little sparring. Plus I want to see your fancy new sword in action, after everything we went through to get it.”

Fjord holds out his hand and then hesitates. “Are you sure that’s safe?” Beau’s staff has been through a lot and has held up rather well for all that, but a sword is a sword.

Beau just laughs. “There’s two clerics in this house, and it’s not like we’re actually trying to hurt each other. We’ll start off really slow, all right?” She grins. “Also there’s the fact that I can block anything you can dish out.”

There was a time when even well meant teasing would have gotten under his skin, but right now it just makes Fjord chuckle. “Oh well, if that’s the case then.” He flicks his wrist, warmth spreading through his arm, and his sword appears, not in a splash of seawater but in a ripple of light like moonlight on waves.

“Damn that’s cool,” Beau says as she gets into a defensive position.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at it,” Fjord says in way of response. He doesn’t tell her that he had spent what might have been a half an hour last night just summoning and un-summoning the sword over and over again, watching the light play across the blade as he had waited for sleep to claim him.

Soon the only sounds in the room are the rhythmic thud of metal against wood, Fjord actually having to put effort into pulling his punches, as it were. There had always been a resistance when he had swung the falchion, as if he had been trying to swing the blade underwater, but his new sword might as well be light and air for the way it feels in his hand, the way it moves. It makes him clumsy at first, his muscles still trying to compensate for something that is no longer there and a few of his blows land too heavily or miss wildly. Beau, true to her word, blocks everything that comes her way.

“Sorry,” Fjord says in between blows. He’s reminded vividly of Vandren teaching him how to use a sword, back in those early days aboard his ship. “I seem to be all knees and elbows today.”

“Just means you need more practice,” Beau says as she blocks another swing. “You know, I was surprised to see you down here when I came in.”

“Why? I know we’ve only been training together for a few days, but training before breakfast was what we had established when we were traveling together. Is it different now that we’re—home?” Home. It suddenly hits him. That’s what this place is, isn’t it?

“It’s not different, but—“ Beau spins around, tapping Fjord’s side with her staff when he doesn’t block the blow fast enough. “_You’re_ different. I mean, you got your magic back and some new muscles to go with it even. I didn’t know if you would just decide that was, you know, good enough.”

Fjord shakes his head. “If anything, the last few weeks taught me that I can’t _just_ rely on magic. What if we’re ever in a situation where magic doesn’t work, or I’m completely tapped, and all I have is my sword? I’d been neglecting the physical side of things because I thought there wasn’t any _point_, especially when I had magic, and that was foolish of me.” He gives her a smile. “I must admit, you’re quite the inspiration.”

“Me?” Beau’s face is the picture of disbelief.

“Yes _you_. You do amazing things all the time, and it’s just _you_, what you’ve trained your body to do. You can literally run up trees, and punch ghosts. I’ve seen you fall from heights that I’m pretty sure would nearly kill a regular person. You just do that landing thing—“ Fjord mimes it while ducking one of Beau’s swings and when he pops back up, she’s grinning.

“That landing is hell on your knees if you fuck it up,” she says. “But I get your point. Umm—thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.” Fjord can hear in her voice that she’s pleased by the compliment, and knows from experience how hard it is to accept such a thing when you’re not used to being praised. That’s something they share in their upbringing, at least he thinks so.

“I used to be jealous of you guys,” Beau says suddenly, and lands another light hit when he falters in surprise. If she had been using her full strength he would have been black and blue by now. “I mean, all of you had magic, but some of you _literally_ were chosen by gods, you know? Uk’otoa is a scaly asshole and seriously fuck him, but you used that magic to save our lives more than once. And Jester and Caduceus can heal people and even bring them back from death sometimes, not to mention Jester can use her magic to seriously fuck shit up. But— no offense, gods just seem to make everything more _complicated._ Not always in a bad way, but—“ She blocks Fjord’s next blow. “Seeing Jester and Reani and—and Yasha worry over if they’re making their respective gods or angels or whatever happy, all that shit with you and Avantika and Uk’otoa— I don’t know. I don’t think following a god like that is my kind of thing. No offense.” Beau says for the second time.

“None taken,” Fjord says amiably, because it’s not like she’s wrong about gods complicating things. For her, the possible complications aren’t worth the potential rewards, and that’s okay. That’s more than okay. That’s who Beau is.

“Though I wouldn’t say no to being able to turn into a bird,” Beau adds, and Fjord can’t help but chuckle at that, even though he’s getting a little out of breath.

“Okay,” Beau finally says. “Let’s speed things up a little. Last big push. Think you can last another five minutes?”

“I can certainly try,” Fjord replies, already longingly thinking of a soak in the hot tub and then breakfast, so it comes as no surprise when Beau manages to whack him lightly on the arm. She dodges out of the way of his next swing, and he swears that she moves so fast that her outline blurs, or maybe that’s just the sweat falling into his eyes. “Are you even _faster_ than you were a few days ago?”

“Maybe?” Beau shrugs and grins, then grins harder when Fjord still manages to block her next blow. “I don’t know, have you ever had sex so good that you feel more powerful afterwards?”

“Wait, what?” Fjord feels himself beginning to blush, like he always does when anyone brings up activities of an intimate nature. The last time he had had sex was with Avantika, and he doesn’t particularly want to remember what the aftermath of that had felt like. Sore doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Or maybe it’s because Reani’s an aasimar. Maybe it was like, divine magic sex. I mean, it felt pretty magical at the time—“ Beau’s eyes go a little distant as she manages a smile both fond and wicked.

There’s too many things going on in Fjord’s head, too many things he’s trying _very_ hard not to imagine, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he loses focus on the one thing he _should_ be paying attention to. He doesn’t realize that Beau is distracted enough that she’s not going to block his swing in time until it’s too late, until his blade, shimmering like water in moonlight, hits Beau’s upper arm.

Fjord pulls back in an instant, his sword vanishing to wherever it goes when he’s not using it, guilt washing over him like a cold tide. Beau swears and claps a hand over the wound, blood trickling through her fingers.

“Shit, shit, I got distracted, my fault—“

“No no it’s my fault, _I _was distracted, how bad is it? Let me see.”

Beau lifts her hand and winces, looking down at the cut. “It’s not too deep,” she says, even as blood continues to slide down her arm. “Jester can heal it for me, no problem.”

Fjord has a history of touching things he shouldn’t. Plates that are too hot, mysterious crystals in deep pools, magical stained glass that transports you into a dragon’s lair. It’s a similar compulsion that causes him to reach out to touch Beau’s arm, similar but not the same. This isn’t about curiosity, it’s about comfort, about wanting to help, even if all he can offer is a touch. He’s not prepared for the sudden flood of warmth flowing down his arm, or the way his hand glows when it touches Beau’s skin, the magic the perfect turquoise blue of the ocean in summer.

The slash in Beau’s arm closes as if it had never been, leaving only the blood behind as evidence.

Beau looks down at her arm, then up at Fjord. “Did we— did we know you could do that? Did _you_ know you could do that?”

Fjord draws his hand back. “I—no. I didn’t know.” There’s a feeling swelling in his chest, emotions catching his throat and making his voice thick.

“Are you a cleric now? Like, on top of your other stuff?”

Fjord shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” He doesn’t know why he thinks that, but it feels true. “I think it’s another gift. She— She likes to give gifts.”

(Later, Fjord will learn what a paladin is, and the word will click into an empty spot in his soul like a key in a lock.)

“More complications, but at least it’s a good one,” Beau says, and she smiles as she gives him a light punch on the arm. “Thanks for healing me up. I’m going to go wash this blood off. You said you got the hot tub going already? Meet you there in a few minutes?”

“Yeah,” Fjord says distractedly, looking back down at his hand. “Yeah, sure.”

Fjord hears Beau leave, muttering something about coffee, and tries to figure out just what he’s feeling. He remembers—

_He’s standing in front of a cracked mirror in the room he rented for the evening, his clothes still damp and covered in sand from when he had washed ashore only hours ago. He’s watching his face change in the glass, features shifting with only a thought, fear making him hot and cold by turns as his heart pounds, as he gasps for air. There are tears sliding down his cheeks, cutting through the salt left on his skin by the ocean. It’s all he had dreamt of, back in the orphanage, to look like someone else. He should be happy. So why does he feel like he’s in over his head?_

_Months later, Fjord stands on the deck of a ship and holds out his hand. The waters of the sea rise up to meet him, spiraling around him in tendrils, obedient to his will. It’s just a taste of what Uk’otoa has promised him, control of all the oceans, if only Fjord will free him. Power. Wasn’t that what Fjord had always wanted, when the other children had bullied him? Control, when all his life he has felt like he’s been swimming against a great tide? Except— nothing can control the sea. That’s what he loves about it most of all. Had he forgotten that? Has he spent so long trying to be Vandren that he’s forgetting what it is to be _ ** _himself?_ **

Fjord looks down at his hand, then up at the ceiling, as if he could look through the stone, past it to where the tree and the garden grow on the roof of their home. His heart feels full, not with fear, not with confusion. He thinks about all the times his friends have lain unconscious at his feet as he’s fumbled for a healing potion, his desire to help, to _save_ them making his hands shake. He remembers reaching out for Jester as she drowned in the temple, giving up his own air so that she would live. This. This is what he’s wanted, deep down in the bottom of his heart. To help. To save.

_“Eventually one day somebody will pray for a miracle,_” Caduceus says in his memory. _“Pray for something to save them to whatever gods are nearby. And that prayer will be answered because you’ll show up.”_

“Thank you,” Fjord whispers, the words barely making it past the lump in his throat. “Thank you for this gift, that I can give to others.”

There is a moment where Fjord feels as if he is being held by warm ocean waters, can swear that sweat on the back of his neck is cooled by a breeze smelling of salt. Then the feeling is gone, but he doesn’t feel alone. Not anymore, not in a house filled with people whose friendship is precious to him, not when he knows his goddess is always watching over him. He’s been surrounded by gifts this whole time. Friendship. Family. Home.

“Fjord!” Beau’s voice rings out down the halls, and if anyone else in the house was still asleep, they probably weren’t anymore. “Are you coming?”

Fjord chuckles, broken out of his thoughts, and goes to soak his aching muscles and to make the most of the day ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm soooo excited Fjord went paladin, I can't even begin to tell you. Sure, right now Fjord only has Lay on Hands and Divine Sense, but oh what the future may hold. *Looks at a certain 2nd level paladin spell with delight.*
> 
> I'm angel-ascending on Tumblr and angel_in_ink on Twitter if y'all want to stop by and say hi!


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